Three Little Cousins

"Oh, I'll see to the pies," responded Miss Ada escaping to the kitchen.

Molly was already on her way to Mrs. Chris Fisher's. Polly vainly tried to attract the baby's attention by every means within her power. Mary stood by suggesting alternately mustard poultices and ginger tea, which suggestions Luella contemptuously put aside.

"I don't see what's the matter with her unless it is colic," she remarked. "She may be subject to it; I ain't heard say. I'll ask Ora next time I go out. When was she fed last?"

"Why, I don't know." The two little girls looked at each other. "Did you give her the bottle, Mary?" asked Polly.

"No," was the reply.

"Maybe Molly did. I reckon it was Molly; she was playing she was mother this morning, you know." Luella said nothing but continued the rocking movement of her knees till Molly came in, breathless, with the bunch of dried catnip.

"I suppose she's been fed regular," said Luella addressing Molly, "and you've took care to give her the milk warm."

"Oh, dear!" Molly stood still. "I forgot she had to be fed oftener than we are, and oh, Luella, I am afraid the last milk she took wasn't real warm."

"Then no wonder she's yellin' like mad," said Luella disgustedly. "You're a nice set to take care of a young un. Here, some of you hold her whilst I get her milk and give it to her right. If she ain't got colic from cold milk she's starvin'."

Molly meekly took charge of the screaming child who did not cease its crying till Luella, returning with the bottle of milk, thrust the rubber nipple into its mouth; then suddenly all was quiet. "Just what I thought; half starved," said Luella. "It looks as if I'd got to see to the youngster, if she stays here. Miss Ada's not much better than the rest of you. What does she know about babies? I guess Ellis can beat the best of you, after all, when it comes to 'tendin' babies."

The little girls felt properly abashed. Only the second day of the baby's stay and she had gone hungry for an hour, while the day before she had been overfed. It did not look as if their benevolent plan worked very well, and indeed, by the end of the week, Miss Ada decided that Miss Myrtle must return to her own. This was made easier by her grandmother's arrival upon the scene, and there were helpers enough to relieve Ellis for at least half the day. However the interest in Parker Dixon's family did not end at once.

CHAPTER IX

New Burdens for Ellis

The three cousins were having a tea on the rocks with their friend Grace Wharton. Luella had baked them some tiny biscuits and some wee ginger-snaps; they had made the fudge themselves, and as for the tea, the amount Miss Ada allowed them would not affect the nerves of any one of the four. There was plenty of hot water in the little brass tea-kettle, and an unlimited supply of milk and sugar. A big flat rock served as a table, and smaller ones gave them excellent seats.

They had just finished eating the last of the cakes and were nibbling the fudge when Polly, perched highest on the rocks, exclaimed: "There's Granville talking to Luella! I wonder what he is doing up here this time of day. They look real excited. There, Luella is going into the house. Now Aunt Ada has come out with her and they are all talking together. I believe I'll go up and see what it is all about. Don't eat up all the fudge."

"Hurry back then," Molly called after her. "Let's hide it, girls, and pretend when she comes back that we've eaten it all up."

"I'll hide it," said Grace. She ran down a little way below them and poked the remaining pieces of fudge into a crevice in the rock, and then returned to await Polly's return, who in a few minutes came running back. "Oh," she said, "I have something to tell you. Our poor little baby hasn't any father. He has been drowned."

"Oh, how dreadful!" Three pairs of startled eyes showed how this news affected the little tea-drinkers.

"Do tell us about it," said Molly setting down the cup from which she was draining the last sugary drop.

"I didn't hear all about it," Polly told them, "but I know he tried to save one of his shipmates and couldn't, and they were both drowned. Luella is going down to stay with Ora's children this afternoon. They haven't told Leona yet, and poor Ellis is perfectly distracted, Granville says. Isn't it sad, when Leona has been so ill and now this dreadful thing has happened?"

"I feel so very sorry for Ellis," remarked Mary.

"So do I," said Polly, "for the baby isn't big enough to know, and maybe Leona can get another husband, but Ellis can't get another brother."

They all agreed that this was a plain fact and sat quite solemnly looking off at the blue sea which had so cruelly swallowed up Parker.

At last Polly gave a long sigh, and she broke the silence by exclaiming, "There, you mean piggies, you ate up all the fudge!"

"You were gone so long," said Molly giving Grace a nudge.

"I don't care; you ought to have saved an extra piece for my bringing you such exciting news."

"But it was such sad news," said Grace turning away her head so Polly could not see her smile.

"If it is sad you needn't laugh about it," said Polly severely. "I believe you hid it!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"If you think so, look for it," said Molly. And Polly immediately set to work to search each one of the party, but could not find a crumb of fudge.

Then she seized Molly, playfully shaking her. "Tell me truly, did you eat it all?"

Amid her struggles to free herself, Molly confessed that they had not. "But, I can't find it," Polly persisted. "Do you know where it is, Molly?"

"No."

"Oh, Molly!" This from Grace.

"I don't exactly know. You hid it," said Molly.

"Then Grace Wharton, tell me." Polly loosed her hold upon Molly, and turned to Grace.

"No, the first that finds it can divide it and can have an extra piece."

In vain the three searched up and down the cliff. "Grace said she hid it between two rocks," announced Molly at last.

"Then she's just got to find it," said Polly. "Grace! Grace!" she called. And Grace responded by appearing on the rocks above them.

"You'll have to show us where you hid it."

On Grace's face was an expression of concern as she came swiftly clambering down to them. "Why, girls," she cried as she reached the spot where they stood, "I'm awfully afraid that – Oh, dear, why didn't I remember about the tide; I'm afraid they're spoiled." She ran to a rock a little lower down.

"Look out or you'll get splashed," warned Molly. "There's a big wave coming in."

Grace sprang back to avoid the swash of water which poured over the rock at her feet; then she exclaimed ruefully: "If I wasn't sure before, I am now! The fudge is just under that rock, between those two small ones."

"Then it's simply all salty, if it isn't gone entirely," declared Molly. True enough when they examined the spot, during a lull in the inpour of waves, they discovered only a couple of water-soaked bits of fudge, fast melting away.

"Our joke didn't turn out very well," said Molly turning to Polly.

"Oh, never mind," returned Polly cheerfully, "it would all be eaten up and forgotten anyhow if I had not gone up to the house, so what's the difference?"

"I'll make some very soon," Grace assured her. "I'll do it to-night."

"Oh, no, don't mind," said Polly. "We've had enough for to-day. See, there is Aunt Ada coming down to us. She will tell us more about the Dixons."

Miss Ada came with a scheme to unfold. "I'm going over to Green Island," she told them, "and if I am not back in time for supper you children hunt around and get something for yourselves. Luella has gone to stay with Ora's family so Ora can be with Leona. She will need all the comfort she can get. We must try to help the poor girl, for her illness and all this will take everything they may have saved. Ellis is pitifully sad, but he says he means to support the family. Poor little chap, as if he could! I am going to try to arrange a bazaar or cake sale or something to help them; you children may help if you like."

"Oh, may we? How lovely!" cried Molly.

"I've helped at fairs," said Grace.

"And once I helped my aunt at a tea she gave the village children," said Mary.

"I'll do everything I can, though I never saw a fair or a bazaar," said Polly. "Tell us more about it, Aunt Ada."

"Tell her all you know, girls," said Aunt Ada. "I must go now. You will not be afraid to stay alone till I get back, will you?"

Her nieces assured her that they would not, and she left them in quite a state of excitement, for, sad as the occasion was, they could not help anticipating the pleasure of the bazaar. "We will have such a lovely time getting ready for the sale," said Molly. "We have had them here before, and they are lots of fun. I know what I am going to do. I'm going to the wood-pile and strip off a whole lot of birch bark to make things of."

"What kind of things?" asked Mary.

"Oh, all sorts of things; napkin rings and picture frames and boxes."

"Oh!" Mary was interested. She had never seen such things except those that the Indian peddlers brought around to the cottages, and never did one appear over the brow of the hill, bowed under the burden of his baskets, that she did not run for her purse, and by now had quite an array of gifts for her English friends. To add to these a supply of birch-bark souvenirs which she could make herself was a prospect truly delightful. "It is very convenient that a quarter is about the same as a shilling," she remarked, "but I can never remember that a penny is two cents; it seems as if an American penny should be the same as an English one."

"I should think you would be glad it isn't," said Polly, "for when you are counting at the rate of our pennies you have twice as many as you would have English ones."

"Well, I don't know," said Mary thoughtfully. "I had a whole pound when I reached here, and Uncle Dick had it changed into American money. I thought I had such a number of pennies and I found they were only cents, but then one can buy a great many things here for a cent that one would have to pay a penny for at home, especially sweets."

That evening she sat fingering her little hoard while Molly was busy preparing her birch bark. "I think I can do very nicely," announced Mary. "I shall have a dollar to spend at the bazaar. Oh, is that the way you do the napkin rings, Molly? Could I do some, do you think?"

"Of course you could," said Molly, encouragingly.

"I know what I am going to do," said Polly, jumping up; "I'm going to get some tiny pine trees to put into little birch-bark boxes; they will look so pretty. Come on, Molly, it isn't dark yet."

"Oh, but we mustn't get them now," replied Molly. "We must wait till the very last thing, so they will look as fresh as possible."

Polly stopped short. In her impetuous way she had forgotten this important point. "Oh, I never thought of that," she said. "Well, anyhow, we can make the boxes."

"I don't believe we can do those either," returned Molly, further dampening Polly's ardor. "We ought to have some small wooden boxes to tack or glue the bark on. We can try some little baskets with handles, and we can fill those with fudge or some kind of home-made candy."

"Oh, very well, we'll begin on those, then." And Polly sat down contentedly with the others to try her ingenuity. They became so absorbed in their work that they forgot all about supper, the more so that their afternoon tea had taken the edge from their appetites, and it was not till the maid from the Whartons came over for Grace, saying that her grandmother was wondering how much longer they must save her supper for her that they realized how late it was. Then Grace having scurried home, the three cousins searched about to see what was in the larder for themselves. They found plenty of bread and butter, ginger-snaps and stewed gooseberries, but not much else, so they sat down contentedly to this fare while the sunset turned from rose to purple and then to gray. It was late enough in the season for the evenings to become chilly after sundown, and Polly proposed that they should have an open fire. "We can sit around and tell stories," she said, "and we can go on with our work at the same time, so the time will pass very quickly till Aunt Ada comes back."

"I'll love that," declared Molly. "I think telling stories is the very nicest way of passing away the time."

"So do I," said Mary, "when I don't have to tell the stories. I never know anything interesting."

"Oh, but you do," protested Polly. "We like to hear about England, of how you have to take off your shoes and put on slippers in the schoolroom, of how you can't walk out without your governess or some one older and all about not having sweet potatoes nor corn, and of how tomatoes are grown under glass and all those ways that are so different from ours."

"But that isn't a real tale," objected Mary.

"Never mind, we like to hear it," said Molly. "What are you doing, Polly?"

"I am building the fire; there must be a whole lot of light stuff to set it going."

"That looks like a good deal," said Molly doubtfully regarding the pile of bark, shaving and light wood that Polly was stowing in the fireplace.

"It will kindle all the quicker," returned Polly in a satisfied voice, touching the kindling with a lighted match. In an instant not only was the light stuff all ablaze, but the flames, leaping out, caught the white apron which Polly had put on, half in sport, when they were getting their supper. It was one of her Aunt Ada's and reached to Polly's ankles, so that she seemed enveloped in flames. She shrieked, but stood still. Quick as a flash Mary caught up the pitcher of water standing on the table and dashed it over her cousin, then she grabbed her and threw her on the floor, snatching up the rug from the floor before doing so, thus protecting herself, and at the same time providing a means of putting out the fire which she did by rolling Polly in the rug.

Molly was perfectly helpless with fright and all she could do was to wring her hands and cry, "Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do? Oh, Polly, Polly!"

Just as the fire was all crushed out, the door opened and in walked their Uncle Dick. Molly rushed to him. Throwing herself in his arms, she cried: "Oh, Polly is burning up! Save her! Save her!"

"What is all this?" said Dick springing forward.

Mary arose from where she was kneeling over Polly. "I think it is all out now," she said.

Polly unwound herself from her mummy-like case. "Are you badly hurt?" her uncle asked anxiously.

"No," she said with a sobbing breath; "only my legs hurt me."

"How did it all happen?" said her uncle, picking her up and setting her in a chair.

"We were kindling the fire," explained Mary, "and Polly's apron caught."

"And Mary saved her life," sobbed Molly completely unnerved. "She threw water on her, and rolled her in the rug."

"That is what my governess said we should do in such cases," said Mary quietly, though her face was twitching. "I never loved Miss Sharp before," she added with a little laugh.

"You certainly did save Polly's life," said her uncle as he examined Polly's clothing. "Fortunately she has on a woolen frock and has been only slightly scorched about the legs. The fire evidently did not reach her bare flesh. You didn't breathe the flames, did you, Polly, for I see the fire did not go above your waist."

"I am sure I didn't breathe any flames," Polly assured him. "Mary was so quick. She saw at once that I had caught fire and she threw the water over me right away, but oh, Uncle Dick, I may not be burned badly, but it does hurt." And she buried her face on her uncle's shoulder to hide her tears.

"Poor little girl, I know it hurts," he said. "Get some salad oil, Molly, and some baking soda; then see if you can find an old handkerchief or two and some raw cotton. We must try to ease this wounded soldier. How did you children happen to be here alone?"

Mary explained, her uncle listening attentively. "I wish I had known it," he said; "I would not have stayed to supper with the boys. We came in on the Gawthrops' yacht about supper-time and they persuaded me to stay, but somehow I felt that I ought to get home soon after. You children must not be left alone again."

"I'll never try to kindle another fire," said Polly woefully. "Molly said I was putting on too much light stuff and it just leaped out like a tiger to bite me."

Molly had returned with the oil and other things by this time, and soon Polly was made as comfortable as her hurts would allow, but it was some days before she could run about, and if there was anything lacking in her affection for her English cousin before this, now it was that she could not bear her out of sight, for Mary, by her coolness and capable help, had proved herself a heroine to be loved and admired.

Although this scare was the important topic with the family for some time, the scheme for helping the distressed Dixon family went forward rapidly and the next week when Polly's burns gave her no more uneasiness, the bazaar was held. There was no prettier table the length of the room than that at which Miss Ada presided, assisted by her three little nieces. Their Uncle Dick had cleverly helped them with the decorations as well as with their birch bark boxes in which were planted the little pine trees. These were so much admired that not one was left after the sale, and Mary had to bespeak some to be made for her to carry home. Some little packages of fudge and home-made candies went off rapidly, and of Luella's famous doughnuts not one was left.

It was at the end of the sale when the biggest, finest cake was yet waiting a buyer that Polly had a whispered talk with her Uncle Dick and afterward stood in front of the cake table holding fast to her purse. The cake in all the deliciousness of nut-spotted icing and rich interior, was delivered to her when she paid over the amount asked for it. Taking the treasure in her hands she bore it over to where Mary was helping her aunt count up the money they had taken in. Polly set the cake on the table before Mary. "There," she said, "it is all yours."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mary. "Who said so?"

"I say so. I bought it for you because you said it looked so perfectly delicious."

Mary was quite overcome by Polly's generosity, but she understood the motive, and accepted the cake graciously, promising to divide it with the family. It certainly was a delicious cake, and Polly really enjoyed her share of it, feeling that in this instance she could have her cake and eat it.

"Over a hundred dollars! I can scarcely believe it," said Miss Ada when all the receipts were in. But so it was, and so did little Ellis Dixon have his burdens lifted, for a hundred dollars will go a long way when fish can be had for the catching, and when one has his own potato patch.

CHAPTER X

Arabs

Of all the things which most amused the three little girls and their friend, Grace, they enjoyed dressing up at dusk, and, in their queer costumes, going around from cottage to cottage to call. Uncle Dick was very clever in painting their faces so that they appeared as birds with owl-like eyes and beaks or as cats, rabbits or some other animal. At other times they were Indians in war paint and feathers; again they were Egyptians or Chinese and dressed to suit the character.

"What shall we do this evening?" said Polly one day when the question of the evening's fun was being talked over. "We want to go to Mrs. Phillips's this time because she gives us such good cakes."

"It's pretty far," said Molly doubtfully. "It is almost to the village, and there are some rough boys down that way. I don't mind going to Mrs. Phillips's in the morning, but if we should happen to get caught there after the sun goes down I shouldn't like it."

"We needn't get caught late," Polly protested, "besides, it is so much more mysterious to go around when it is a little bit duskish. It isn't as if any one of us would be alone; there will be four and nobody around here would do anything to hurt us, anyhow."

"No, I don't suppose any one really would," Molly returned weakly, her objections over-ruled. And therefore when the cottages began to loom darkly against the evening sky, the four little girls sallied forth, draped in white sheets, and made their way over the hilltop to the road beyond. They had usually confined their visits to their acquaintances in the immediate neighborhood, so their aunt did not trouble herself to inquire where they were going that evening, otherwise she might have forbidden the walk they had in mind.

"Don't they look like four dear little Arabs?" said Miss Ada to her brother. "They make a perfect picture as they go over the hill in the evening light. How much they enjoy these little frolics." She turned from watching the white-sheeted four who soon disappeared down the road.

It was great fun, thought the girls, to call upon their various friends and pretend they were foreigners who did not understand the language of those whom they were visiting; yet they understood enough to accept refreshments offered them, and managed to say, "thank you" and "good-bye."

It was after they had been regaled upon cakes and lemonade at Mrs. Phillips's that the moment came which Molly had been dreading. The shadows had deepened and the stars were trying to come out, while a little light still lingered in the western sky. "We'd better not take the short cut," said Molly. "It is so rough that way, and it is muddy in places; we'll go around by the road." The lights were twinkling out from the fishermen's homes and from the vessels anchored in the cove. There were not many persons on the road, and the four little girls hastened their steps.

Presently a shout, then the bark of a dog arose from behind them, and in another minute they were surrounded by a crowd of jeering boys and barking dogs. "Yaw! Yaw! Yaw!" shouted the boys. "Sic 'em, Sailor! Sick 'em, Towser!" The dogs nipped at the retreating heels and the boys twitched the flowing robes of the four Arabs.

"Oh, let us alone! Let us alone!" shrieked Molly.

"Who be ye?" cried one of the boys peering into their faces.

"What ye doin' dressed up this here way?" said another. The paint upon their faces so disguised them that they were not recognized by any of the boys, if, indeed, any knew them.

"They ain't none o' our folks," said another boy, trying to jerk off Polly's head covering.

She turned on him fiercely. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," she cried. "How would you like any one to treat your sisters so?"

"How'd you like any one to treat your sisters so?" mimicked the boy in a piping voice. "I ain't got no sister, and if I had she wouldn't be traipsin' 'round the P'int in circus clothes."

Wrenching herself from the boy's grasp, Polly started to run, the other girls following. One boy thrust out his foot tripping Grace who fell sprawling in the dusty road. Her companions stopped in their flight to come to her rescue. "Oh, you bad, bad boys," cried Molly indignantly. "If I don't tell Cap'n Dave on you."

"We ain't feared o' Cap'n Dave," was the scoffing reply.

The girls picked up the weeping Grace. "Are you hurt?" they whispered.

"I don't know," whimpered Grace. "Oh, how can we get home? I want to go home."

Her weeping caused cessation in hostilities for a moment, but as soon as the four figures started forward they were again surrounded and the teasing recommenced.

But just as the girls were in despair of ever escaping from their tormentors, another boy came up. "What's up?" he asked.

"Oh, nawthin'," replied one of the boys laughing. "We cal'late to keep furriners away from the P'int, and these here ain't dressed like Amur'cans."

"Who are they?" The boy bent over to peer into Molly's face. She gave a joyful cry. "Oh, Ellis, Ellis, save us from them. They won't let us go home."

The newcomer turned. "Say, you fellows," he said. "You'd ought to be ashamed. These here is friends of mine. If any of you fellows touches one of 'em, I'll pitch into him like sin. Don't you know who they are? They're the little gals up to the Reid cottage, that's been so good to us, nursing the baby and gettin' up that fair and all that."

The boys slunk away. "We didn't know it was them," the largest one said. "Why didn't they say so? We thought it was that crowd of sassy youngsters over by Back Landing; they're always so fresh. One of 'em sneaked off with Dan's boat yesterday and we wanted to pay 'em back."